And Scene
by Amanda Kitswell
Summary: The success of a play relies on the strength of its production; for the actors, rehearsal is key. When the man cast opposite her becomes unreliable, Arais turns to another for help. Modern AU, written for a challenge in the Dragon Age FanFiction Writers group on Facebook.


_**And, Benedick, love on; I will requite thee,  
****Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand:  
****If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee  
****To bind our loves up in a holy band;  
****For others say thou dost deserve, and I  
****Believe it better than reportingly.**_

_**\- Beatrice, Much Ado About Nothing, Act III, Scene I**_

* * *

Arais stood outside the office door, her hand halfway to the handle. Maybe this wasn't the best idea. There were plenty of other people she could run lines with. Hell, she could even ask Zevran. She may not share any scenes with him, but they were roommates, and he was a talented actor.

Yes, that was a much better plan. She was sure she would be crossing a line rehearsing scenes with a professor; it didn't matter that he was the head of the drama department. She wondered why she had even considered it in the first place.

She turned, and the click of her heels echoed in the hallway as she walked away. Before she had even made it half a dozen steps, she heard the office door open.

"Arais?" a voice called out.

"Oh!" she squeaked out, and turned on her heel. "Professor Guerrin, I'm sorry if I disturbed you."

"You haven't." Teagan leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. He had rolled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, and she felt her stomach do a little flip. She tried to ignore it, but heat rose more freely in her cheeks, and she nibbled at her bottom lip. His eyes flickered downward before they returned to her eyes. "Did you need something?"

"I-no. Well, I did, but I-I've figured it out," she stammered. She pulled her braid over her shoulder and fidgeted with the end. She had been his TA for over a semester now; it was amazing how easy it still was for him to catch her off guard.

"I see," he said, a curious glimmer in his eyes. He glanced toward the bound stack of papers she clutched against her stomach. "What do you have there?"

She took a deep breath, and felt some of her anxiety ease. "It's a script. I got cast in a production at the Repertory Theater."

He pushed himself away from the doorframe and walked up to her. "May I?"

"Yes, of course." She handed the script to him. "It's Shakespeare, of all things."

He glanced at the cover page. "Ah, _Much Ado About Nothing_. One of my favorites." He flipped through the pages. "I take it from the highlighted sections you've been cast as Beatrice?"

"I have."

"I'm hardly surprised. You were one of my most talented students." He smiled as his eyes scanned the text. "How is production faring?"

"Very well, for the most part."

"'For the most part'?"

Her smile fell, and she nibbled on her bottom lip. She wondered if she should speak of the issues she was having with Alistair. It couldn't possibly be appropriate to explain her costar's behavior, given the circumstances.

When she did speak, her words were carefully chosen. "I've had difficulty with Alistair; he was cast as Benedick. Every time we agree to meet up to run lines outside of rehearsal, he bails. I feel like my performance is suffering, as a result."

"I know Alistair, and he was nothing if not professional when he was my student. I wouldn't have expected this from him." His mouth set in a puzzled frown. "Have you spoken to the director?"

Her arms hugged her script tighter to her chest. "Both the director and the stage manager have talked to him about his behavior. There isn't much they can do to dissuade his personal feelings." She saw Teagan's brows furrow, and she wanted to kick herself.

"What personal feelings could he have that would interfere?"

She heaved a resigned sighed. "They can't force him to like working with his ex."

"Ah. The two of you were involved."

She nodded, but chose to remain silent. There was no need to describe her former relationship with Alistair. Or how badly it had ended, for that matter. At least Alistair's behavior implied the latter. Besides, she had moved on, and that was all that mattered.

There was a flicker of something in his eyes which she had never seen. Before she could put her finger on what it was, it was gone. "Well, I doubt your performance has been anything less than wonderful."

Grateful for the change of subject, she gave him a shy smile. "It would be nice to know for sure, though."

"If you like, I could read a scene with you? I played Benedick myself when I lived in London."

She shook her head, with perhaps a bit more vehemence than was necessary. "I was going to find one of my other costars to run lines with, actually. Besides, you must be busy with midterms."

"Considering tomorrow is the last day of exams, I think I have time."

She opened her mouth, but paused before she spoke. Teagan didn't seem to harbor the same concerns about running lines together. And God only knew if she would be able to get in contact with Zevran at this hour. It was nearly eight on a Thursday; he was probably already preparing to go barhopping with Isabela.

With a hesitant nod, she said, "All right."

She led the way into his office, painfully aware of the sound her heels made as she walked. It was in this moment she questioned if it was worth it to wear heels just to be a few inches taller.

She laid her jacket and scarf over the back of a chair, and dropped her messenger bag beside it. She felt a little ridiculous for being so nervous,. This wouldn't be the first time she performed in front of Teagan. Then again, it would be the first time she performed _with_ him.

She was grateful for the opportunity to quash her nerves facing away from him gave her.

"Which scene would you like to work on?" he asked.

She spun around, and hoped the remainder of her anxiety did not show on her face. "We've worked through a bulk of the play in rehearsals. It's towards the end that it started to become a problem. We're supposed to run through act five tomorrow night, so . . . scene two would be as good a place as any to start."

"Do you need the script?"

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "I've gone over it enough on my own; I've got it pretty well memorized." She walked to the door, and as she passed him, her arm brushed against his. Again, her stomach did that little flip. She swallowed hard before she turned around. She took a deep breath as she got into character, eyes closed. She slowly let the air slip from between her lips, and she felt the tension leave her body. When her eyes opened, she felt completely at ease. It was . . . liberating.

"Are you ready?" he asked. She nodded, but remained silent, waiting. He glanced down at the script. His eyes scanned the page before he placed it aside and looked up at her. His lips turned up in a small smile, and he took a step forward. "_Sweet Beatrice, wouldst thou come when I called thee?_"

"_Yea, signior,_" she replied with her own tense smile, "_and depart when you bid me._"

His hand reached out for her. "_O, stay but till then!_"

"_'Then' is spoken; fare you well now_." She turned to the door. With a laugh, he moved to stop her. She paused, and turned back to look over her shoulder. "_And yet, ere I go_"-she moved to face him completely-"_let me go with that I came; which is, with knowing what hath passed between you and Claudio._"

"_Only foul words,_"-he leaned forward-"_and thereupon I will kiss thee._"

She held a hand up to his chest to stop him. "_Foul words is but foul wind, and foul wind is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome"-she began to turn away-"therefore I will depart unkissed._"

His hand took hers. For a brief instance Arais broke character, and she felt her cheeks darken. When her eyes met Teagan's, she was certain he felt the same hesitation.

The moment stretched on for an eternity. He seemed to lean ever-so-slightly closer toward her, and she toward him. But she saw the expression in his eyes shift, and when he let go of her hand, the moment was gone. "_Thou hast frighted the word out of his right sense, so forcible is thy wit. But I must tell thee plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge; and either I must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe him a coward. And, I pray thee now,_" he began, and leaned against the wall beside her, "_tell me for which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love with me?_"

She laughed, partly for the scene, and partly to cover her lapse in concentration. "_For them all together_." She rested her back against the door. "_Which maintained so politic a state of evil that they will not admit any good part to intermingle with them. But_"-one corner of her mouth lifted in a half smile when she turned her head to face him-"_for which of my good parts did you first suffer love for me?_"

"_Suffer love! a good epithet!_" he said, his voice thick with amusement. "_I do suffer love indeed, for I love thee against my will._"

"_In spite of your heart, I think; alas, poor heart!_" She stood in front of him, and lifted her hand with a dramatic flare to lay it upon his chest. "_If you spite it for my sake, I will spite it for yours; for I will never love that which my friend hates._"

It sounded as if he cleared his throat before a chuckle rumbled against her palm. "_Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably._"

"_It appears not in this confession"-_she glanced down at her hand, and then back up to meet his eyes-"_there's not one wise man among twenty that will praise himself._"

"_An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that lived in the lime of good neighbours._" His hands moved to rest on her hips, and she felt her heart skip a beat. "_If a man do not erect in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall live no longer in monument than the bell rings and the widow weeps._"

Arais pulled away the slightest bit, though her free hand came to rest upon one of his. "_And how long is that, think you?_"

"_Question_"-he pushed away from the wall to stand straight-"_why, an hour in clamour and a quarter in rheum: therefore is it most expedient for the wise, if Don Worm, his conscience, find no impediment to the contrary, to be the trumpet of his own virtues, as I am to myself._" His lips stretched into an impish smile. "_So much for praising myself, who, I myself will bear witness, is praiseworthy._" Almost at once, the smile left his lips, and there was concern etched in each line and crease on his face. "_And now tell me, how doth your cousin?_"

She looked down at the space between them. In that moment, she noticed how little of it there was. When she spoke, her voice was low, mournful. "_Very ill._"

The hand she was not holding came up to rest on her cheek and gently urged her to look up at him. "_And how do you?_"

"_Very ill too."_

He slipped his other hand from her grasp, and brought it up so he cupped her face in both hands. "_Serve God_"-she noticed his voice had become rather hoarse-"_love me_"-his hands slid down to rest on her shoulders-"_and mend._"

She waited for him to step away, to continue his line as if Ursula had interrupted them, but he did not move, and the words never came. Arais' heart rate sped up as his eyes held hers. She was quite aware of his hands and how they held her, the warmth of them hardly stemmed by her thin cotton blouse. Her stomach twisted, and she found it far more difficult to ignore it this time. There was no stopping the blush that spread across her cheeks, and the heat burned down her neck to settle in her chest.

His hands slid down her arms, back to her hips, and she was positive he leaned closer. Her body, almost of its own accord, fell forward a step, and further lessened the space between them. She felt his breath whisper across her lips, and her eyes fluttered shut.

And before she could react, he had stepped around her, and left her staring dazedly at the beige paint on the walls.

Silence stretched on in the office. Arais could hardly bring herself to breathe, never mind turn around and face what had happened.

"You did well," Teagan said, his voice strained. He cleared his throat. "Very well, actually. I don't think you have anything to worry about."

"I-" she turned to Teagan, and saw that he now stood behind his desk. When she tried to meet his eyes, he seemed to find the wall she had just been staring at quite interesting. "Thank you. I think you're right." She took a tentative step toward the desk. She tried not to notice the way his body tensed as she reached for her script, then her coat and scarf. She shouldered her bag and backed up a step. "I should go; I have a . . . an appointment early tomorrow morning," she lied. "I-Thank you, for helping me."

He said nothing; rather, he only nodded in response. She worried at her lip, and he looked at her then. She could see conflict warring in his eyes. It was a mirror of the feelings she felt tearing her apart from the inside out. She had to leave, to separate herself from the situation so she could think about what had happened.

"G-Good night, Professor," she stuttered, and turned to the door.

Her heart was racing, and her hand shook as she reached for the door handle. She froze when she heard Teagan say, "Arais, wait." It came from somewhere much closer than his desk.

Before she could bring herself to look up at him, before she could even turn all the way around, her back hit the door and she felt Teagan's lips pressed hard against hers. Stunned, she stood still, her eyes wide as she tried to absorb what was happening. She dropped her jacket and script, and her bag slid off her shoulder; it all landed on the floor with a dull _thud_. Just as it began to sink in that not only was she being kissed, but by a professor to whom she had only barely accepted her attraction, he pulled away. She stared, still wide-eyed, up at him. Her chest rose and fell in sporadic bursts. She raised her hands to rest upon his chest, and could feel his uneven breathing beneath her palms.

"I'm-" His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat. "I'm sorry." He moved to take a step back. "That was . . . I shouldn't have . . . I'm sor-"

She cut him off when she pulled him down to cover his lips with hers, her fingers clutched in the fabric of his shirt. As she had been before, he seemed taken aback, but he recovered more quickly. He pulled her flush against him, and she felt the tips of his fingers dig into her hips. Molten heat coursed through her from where his lips moved over hers, past her rapidly beating heart, to settle low in her belly. A soft moan slipped from her lips past his, and she felt the beginnings of a groan rumbling against her palms.

His mouth moved to press kisses along her jaw, and she snaked her arms up and around his neck. "We shouldn't be doing this," he said, his lips brushing against her ear. He continued to pepper kisses down her throat and across her collarbone.

"No," she breathed, and weakly shook her head. "No, we shouldn't be." She tangled her fingers in his hair, which tightened when his lips moved up to capture hers once again. His fingers skimmed her sides, and she shivered beneath his touch. Her stomach tied itself in impossible knots, and she could barely breathe for the way her chest tightened.

"Because I'm a professor," he said, his breath hot against her lips.

She nodded, refusing to move her lips from his. "And I'm your TA," she said around a moan as his fingers brushed the side of her breast. Her fingers tugged at the knot at his throat, loosening it until she was able to pull the tie from his collar.

His lips burned a trail down the other side of her throat, and she felt as much as she heard a muffled, "Do you want me to stop?" against the crook of her shoulder.

"Don't you"-his teeth grazed the tender flesh just beneath the collar of her shirt-"da-are," she gasped. Shaky fingers attempted to undo the buttons on his shirt. When he slipped his hands beneath her blouse, her whole body quivered. She managed to undo two buttons before the shaking in her hands became too much. Desperate, she ripped his shirt open, and buttons clattered to the ground. She pushed it off his shoulders and yanked the hem loose from his pants so it fell to the floor.

She felt a groan tickle her lips, followed by a low, "Christ, Arais." He took her hands and raised them above her head. Slowly, torturously he brushed his fingers down along her arms. Not soon enough, he pulled her shirt roughly up and off. When she felt the coarse hairs on his chest against her bare skin, she thought she may very well lose her mind. Her arms slithered around his neck to pull him close, so close she could feel the beat of his heart mingling with hers.

Her nails dug into his back when his hands moved down past her waist and around to grip her backside, and he lifted her from the ground as if she weighed nothing. Her pumps slipped from her feet and tumbled to the ground, but she hardly noticed as his body pinned her up against the door and she felt him hard against her core. The air that puffed from her lungs escaped in a breathy moan.

Lights flashed bright and blinding in the darkness behind her eyelids as he moved against her. She tangled one hand in his hair and pulled his head back to kiss him roughly. With a hard thrust so exquisite it hit all the right places, it felt as though she were coming undone. A high pitched noise which sounded close to a strangled sob grated against her throat. Her nails dug into his back and she was sure she would draw blood.

Her back pressed harder into the wall, so hard it began to ache. She lowered one hand behind her, and murmured, "Desk. Now." He nodded against the crook of her shoulder. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pushed herself forward. He moved his hands to support her weight, then turned and walked her over to the desk.

When he carefully perched her on the edge, he leaned past her and swept the surface of its contents. The carpet muted the sounds of objects both large and small hitting the ground. She scooted backward and lay back on the desk, and his lips moved, first over her hip, then up along her stomach until he paused at her breast. He pushed down her bra, and his mouth closed over her nipple; she bit into the side of her hand to keep from crying out. She arched her back to bring him closer, and laced the fingers of her free hand through his hair. After several moments of allowing an almost unbearable level of tension to grow in her belly, she released the hand in her mouth and tugged him by the shoulder. He came up to lean beside her, and caught her lips in a rough kiss.

A blush seared along the surface of her skin when she felt his hand slide up her thigh and beneath her skirt. She found her ability to breathe compromised as he drew a single finger down to the apex of her thighs. Her chest tightened when it slipped past her panties and began to move within her, and he captured her cry in his mouth as he brushed his thumb across her nub.

A heavy fog began to settle over her as he slipped another finger within her. She reached down and fumbled with his belt until she managed to undo the buckle. When she tried to undo the button on his pants, it slipped from her fingers again and again. Irked, she mumbled, "Shoot."

He chuckled and pushed her hand aside, undoing the button and zipper in one swift motion. His laugh turned into a low moan when she reached beneath the waistband of his underwear and took his length in her hand. She stroked once, twice, and the groan she felt tickle her lips only urged her on. She only stopped when she found her back pushed hard into the desk, her hands pinned above her head.

"You are going to be the death of me," he said, and kissed her. One hand reached down to lift her skirt out of the way, but she felt him hesitate when he pressed against her entrance through the lace of her panties. Her eyes reflected her concern when he pulled away.

"Is something the matter?" she asked, breathless. She found it difficult to keep the disappointment from seeping into her tone.

He nodded and released her hands, and touched his fingers to her cheek. His tenderness was offset by the turbulent sea of emotion she saw in his deep blue eyes. "I don't have . . . Well, I hardly considered it necessary to keep . . ."

"It's all right." A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth, understanding. "I'm already covered."

She saw the relief wash over his face, and heard it in his voice when he murmured, "Thank God," before his lips claimed hers. His hand slid along her inner thigh, and she gasped when he pushed her panties aside and plunged into her. Christ, he felt good. He moved as if he knew just how to angle himself to drive her to the brink of madness. What she wouldn't have given to be somewhere she could cry out without worrying who might overhear.

The tension in her lower belly pulled tight as a piano wire, and when she lifted her hips to bring herself closer to him, it snapped. She bit hard into her lip to hold back the scream that rose in her throat, but the way he drew out the pleasure forced it free. It was all she could do to pull him close and muffle it against his chest. Her fingers tangled in his hair, and she pulled him closer.

God help her, she could feel the last, fraying thread of control she had finally snap. She found her gratitude for the width of his desk without limit when she pushed against his shoulder and rolled him onto his back. She pulled him up with her when she leaned back, so he sat on the edge of the desk, and ground herself down on him. "Fuck," he muttered, his voice so quiet she almost didn't hear it. He pulled roughly at her bra, and the straps tore before it slid past her stomach to settle at her waist. His hand loosened her braid and gripped her hair, and she followed his lead when he pulled her head back. She moaned deep in her throat when his lips burned their way down her throat and over her breasts.

Up until that moment, her hips had rolled a steady rhythm against his. But, yet, when his arms tightened around her, he quickened the pace. She had to bite into his shoulder to keep herself quiet when he hit the spot that made her crazy over and over. Again she could feel her body tighten against the ever-growing pressure in her belly, but this time she felt him tense with her. The more erratic his movements became, the more she had to press her face into him to muffle her cries. She was on the verge of tears when again she felt the indescribable warmth wash over her. Her lungs tightened to the point where she couldn't breathe, and it felt as if she was drowning.

She felt him tense as he pressed feverish kisses over the length of her collarbone. The little air she could breathe slipped past her lips in a surprised gasp when he bit into the crook of her shoulder. His entire body went stiff in her arms, and there was no mistaking the string of curses he breathed against her neck. Were she not dazed from everything she had just experienced, she might have laughed. As it was, even with the heat of their bodies, she shivered. The cool air in the room chilled the sweat which soaked her body and raised goosebumps along her skin.

His body slowly relaxed against hers. He lowered his hands to her hips and lifted his head. For a while they stared into each other's eyes. Despite what had just happened, Arais felt herself grow more and more self-conscious. Though it took some time, it hit her: she had just had sex with a professor. What had she been thinking? She pulled back and stumbled away from him, and anxiety bubbled in the pit of her stomach. Christ, she had just slept with a fucking _professor_. This was a whole new level of foolish; what had she done?

She straightened her skirt and wobbled to where he had tossed her shirt by the door. When she pulled it over her head, the backs of her fingers brushed over her ruined bra. She froze, and her cheeks burned hotter than she thought was possible. She unhooked it, and stared at the ruined straps as it hung limp from her fingers.

"Arais?" he said from behind her, his tone gentle. She jumped, her heart beating hard against her chest.

She made a decided effort to look anywhere but at him. Maybe if she refused to look at him this time, what happened would undo itself. It felt as if her lungs refused to accept air as she felt his presence so close behind her. With an awkward lurch, she stepped away from him and bent over to pick up her jacket, scarf, and script. When she straightened, she hugged them against her chest.

There were shuffling sounds, followed by footsteps, and she knew he had come up behind her again. Still, she started when he put his hand on her arm and said, "Arais, look at me." With a gentle tug, he urged her to turn around. Eyes closed, she did her best to breathe, and, though she now faced him, she couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye. Instead, she opted to stare at the floor.

She thanked God he'd had the sense to put his pants on.

"This was a mistake," she said, and finally forced herself to meet his eyes. Though simple logic told her it was true, the surprised-and dare she say hurt?-look on his face made her stomach do an odd sort of lurch. She felt as if she might throw up. She stepped back a pace, and he didn't follow. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-I should have stopped it when I had the chance."

He shook his head. "I am just as responsible as you are; either of us could have stopped it, but we didn't." He went to move toward her, but when she backed into the door and her foot caught on her messenger bag, he stopped. "For what it's worth," he said, sincerity clear in his eyes, "I don't regret it."

"You-" She stared at him, flabbergasted. "How could you not? You're a professor, and I'm barely a step above being your student. The university could fire you for this!"

"And you think I haven't considered as much?" He turned to his desk and sat in one of the chairs set up for the students who came to see him. His hands came up and rubbed over her face, and when he met her eyes, he looked torn. "Arais, I've never done anything like this before. I've never crossed this line. I swore to myself I wouldn't. And it wasn't the consequences of someone finding out that concerned me, it was the idea of you getting hurt if they did." There was a poignant shift in his expression that made her breath hitch. "But it did happen, and I won't pretend it wasn't better than I could have hoped it would be."

Her heart fluttered in her chest, and her mouth fell open , thoughts buzzing in her mind. The way he was speaking, it sounded as if he had thought about this before. It hardly seemed possible, yet his words left little room for argument. Christ, this was such a mess, and far more than she felt she could handle.

"Please," he said, and she could almost feel his desperation as if it were her own. "Please, say something."

She opened her mouth, but no words would come. What could she even say? She closed her eyes and forced herself to think; to sort her thoughts, her feelings. She tried to find something to tell him that might satisfy him, but nothing came. When she opened her eyes and looked at him, she tried to convey just how badly she wanted to say something, anything. She simply couldn't.

He pushed himself out of the chair, but when he moved toward her, she held her hands up to stop him. "No. I need to-Space. I need space." He fell back a step, but never took his eyes off her. She could feel herself crumble beneath his gaze, and she walked around him. She sidestepped the pens and papers that had been strewn across the floor and laid her things across the chair. She stood by the window and opened it a few inches, and crossed her arms over her chest.

Eyes closed once more, she inhaled the crisp March air, and allowed it to clear her of the thoughts that clouded her mind and made it impossible to think. There were a few things to consider, beyond the obvious, not the least of which being what he had said only moments ago.

'I won't pretend it wasn't better than I could have hoped it would be.' She couldn't reason away that he had thought about this before. But were his thoughts purely focused on the physical? She tried to convince herself they were, that it would be easier if that were the case. However, an annoying and persistent part of her told her it would disappoint her if his words didn't mean something more. And then there was the matter of regret. She believed he didn't regret what happened; the vehemence of his words was proof enough of his feelings. And the more she thought about it, the more difficult she found it to deny how right it had felt.

How right it still felt.

Arais opened her eyes and closed the window, and leaned back against the wall next to it. Teagan hadn't moved; hadn't even turned to watch her. His hands had a white-knuckled grip on the back of his neck, his shoulders tense as he stared down at the floor. Her heart skipped a beat, then a second; he did seem to be struggling with this. It was then she realized he wouldn't be agonizing over this as much as he was if he didn't feel something. Nor would she, if she allowed herself to be honest. It was possible she'd had these feelings for some time, and simply ignored them. If she had, it was to spare herself from a situation like the one she found herself in.

Well, it seemed to have worked out well.

She took a deep breath. Now that she had an idea where she stood, she had to figure out how to word it. How did she tell a man she had until that moment told herself she couldn't have how she felt? How would she even begin?

And, as if a bullet had hit her, she found her answer.

"Teagan?"

His hands fell from his neck, and he spun around to face her. He looked surprised, as if she had done something completely unexpected, and she supposed that was true. Up until then, she had been firm with boundaries. She refused to call him anything other than Professor Guerrin, no matter how many times he insisted otherwise. But, with what she was about to say, it made sense to finally break that rule.

She moved to stand in front of him, and met his eyes with as much confidence as she could muster. "I . . . I think I feel the same way you do about . . . what happened. And I'd be kidding us both if I said it didn't mean anything to me." She rested her palm over his heart, and felt it beat rapidly beneath her touch. She stared at the back of her hand, and contemplated her next words before she spoke again. "I probably shouldn't tell you this, but I've done a lot of things I shouldn't have tonight, so what's one more?" She looked back into his eyes. "I care about you. I think I have for a while, but I didn't let myself think about it."

His hand came up to cover hers, and she could have lost herself in his eyes at that moment. "If I haven't made it obvious enough, I care for you, as well."

It felt like a hummingbird had replaced her heart, and she gave him a small smile. "I know," she said, before the smile fell from her face. "But you know as well as I do this isn't the right time. Our feelings don't change the fact that you could lose your job if anyone found out."

"That is true," he said, though the tone of his voice gave her pause; he sounded almost determined. "But that's a risk I'm willing to take, if you are."

"I-" She searched his eyes for even the slightest glimmer of hesitation, but she found none. He really did seem to want this. To want her. "It's going to be so difficult to keep this under wraps. God only knows if we'll be able to keep it a secret until I'm done with the teaching program in May."

"How long is two months, really?" he asked, his thumb brushing the back of her hand. "It seems we've mastered hiding our feelings from each other; how difficult can it be to hide it from others?"

Again, she sensed no lapse in his confidence, and it was becoming infectious. Maybe he was right; maybe this was possible. And there was no guarantee it would work to wait until the end of the semester. For all she knew, what had just happened would happen again, and they may not be able to avoid getting caught next time.

"Okay," she said, the frown she wore conveying how unsure she still was, despite his certainty. "But nothing can ever happen here after tonight. We were lucky no one heard us."

"Of course; that goes without saying." He lifted her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckles. "This _will_ work. And in the event someone finds out, I will make certain you're not held accountable."

She shook her head. "No. If we're going to do this, we do it together. If we get caught, I'll own up to my involvement; I'm not going to pretend I didn't have an equal part in this to save my own skin."

Her cheeks burned under the expression of wonder he gave her. "You are a remarkable woman, Arais," he said, his voice soft.

Arais pushed herself up on her toes and met his lips in a slow, lingering kiss, maintaining her balance with her hands on his shoulders. When they parted, she slid her hands down to thread her fingers in the coarse hair that peppered his chest.

Her gaze shifted to the door, and nearby lay the remains of his shirt. Her eyes went wide, and she looked back up at him, worried. "Your shirt."

"What about it?" he asked, and an amused smile turned up the corners of his mouth. "Aside from the fact that you tore away more than half the buttons, that is."

"That's just it-it's ruined." Her voice dripped with concern. "Someone is bound to notice if you leave the building with no shirt on."

A soft chuckle vibrated against her palms. "You needn't worry. I keep an extra here, just in case." His grin playful, he looked years younger. "Though I will admit, I never thought I would need it in a situation quite like this."

She laughed, and the sound carried away what little tension remained within her. When Teagan bent low to capture her mouth with his, she melted into his slow, languorous kiss. She relished the way his lips moved over hers; how his beard tickled her chin. And she felt drunk on the taste of tea and cinnamon she found on his lips, a taste she hadn't noticed before, frenzied as she had been. Soon, and with no small amount of surprise, Arais felt the backs of her thighs pressed up against the desk, and she pulled away . No doubt he knew what he was doing, because before he claimed her lips again, she saw a mischievous twinkle hidden in his eyes.

"You agreed nothing else should happen here," she murmured against his lips, her voice hushed.

"I believe," he started as his lips moved to her jawline, "I agreed nothing would happen here after tonight." He trailed kisses down her throat, and his fingers brushed underneath the hem of her shirt. "Last I checked, it's still tonight."

A soft moan slipped from her mouth, even as she shook her head, when his fingers kneaded her hips. "Semantics."

"I can stop." While his hands remained on her hips, he took a step back. "If that's what you want."

Arais lifted a hand to cup his cheek, and slid it back to tangle in his hair. With a wicked grin, she said, "Don't you dare," before she pulled him back down into a kiss.

* * *

The brisk, late winter wind stung Arais' cheeks. She pushed through the inebriated students that lined the sidewalks, desperate to get home. To have a moment to herself to drink it all in. She hadn't felt this way since she had been seeing Alistair. Even then, it hadn't been this exhilarating. Her hands shook as she pushed her key into the lock and turned, and hurried inside. Safe inside the warmth of her apartment building's lobby, giddiness swelled in her chest. She climbed the steps as quick as her heels would allow. When she reached the door to her apartment, she let herself in and locked the door behind her. She leaned against it, and a helpless giggle slipped past her lips.

"Arais, is that you?" a woman called from the living room, and Arais almost jumped out of her skin. Both Isabela and Zevran came into view, and they seemed both curious and concerned.

"Where have you been?" Zevran asked.

"I-" To her utter frustration, she couldn't think of a lie. Instead, she turned the tables on them. "I thought you two were going out tonight?"

"We were, but I had a headache, so we decided to hang out here." Isabela narrowed her eyes at Arais. "Why is your hair such a mess?"

Her hand flew up to her hair, and she ran her fingers through it self-consciously. She had fixed it up well enough before she left the school. How could Isabela have noticed? Arais knew she should have braided it again.

"It-It's windy outside," she stammered. A weak excuse, but it was all she could come up with.

"No it isn't," Zevran said. "These old windows rattle for anything worse than a breeze. Besides," he started, his eyes focused on her knees. "wind doesn't explain those bruises. You're hiding something from us."

"I don't know what you're talking about." She cursed the blush that rose to her cheeks. "I fell, that's all. It was bound to happen in these heels." Becoming quite warm, indeed, she pulled her scarf from her neck. She went to walk past them, but before she could, Zevran grabbed her arm to stop her.

His gaze roamed over her neck. "Did you also hit your neck . . . well, just about everywhere when you fell?"

She opened her mouth, but only incoherent babbling came out. How had she not noticed any of this before she left Teagan's office? Okay, maybe that was a stupid question. She had been more than a little distracted at the time. But if Isabela and Zevran noticed, it meant anyone she passed on the street may have, as well. Her whole body burned with embarrassment.

"What's that?" Isabela asked as Arais lowered her jacket just below her elbows. There was more than a little amusement in her voice. When Arais looked to where her friend pointed, her heart sank into her stomach. A strap from her ruined bra hung from the pocket she had stuffed it in. "Is that . . . ?" Isabela took hold of the strap and pulled the bra from Arais' pocket. She held it out of reach when Arais tried to grab it. Arais looked over at Zevran, and his eyes held a knowing glimmer.

"Oh my God," Isabela laughed as she held it up by its torn straps. "Arais, who did you fuck?"

Arais finally managed to push past them, and it felt as if she was on fire. "I'm not telling," she managed to say as she hung her jacket on the coat rack.

"Oh, come on," Isabela whined. She and Zevran both followed Arais to the living room. "Tell us!"

"No," Arais said in a firm tone, and turned on them. "Why do you even want to know?"

"Because you have _never _come home giggling like a schoolgirl," Zevran said.

"Yeah," Isabela agreed, nodding. "You're obviously in a good mood. We just want to know who made you so happy."

Both of them were acting far too sweet; Arais narrowed her eyes at them. "Bullshit."

"Ouch!" Zevran clutched at his heart, and he wore an expression of mock-pain.

Arms crossed over her chest, Isabela smirked. "Well, fine. If you're not going to tell us, we're just going to guess until you cave."

"You're wasting your time." She dropped onto the couch and set her messenger bag on the edge of the seat beside her. She rifled through it and removed one of the many books inside. "But if it will get you two to leave me alone, go for it."

"With pleasure," Isabela replied, and her mouth set into a determined line.

She and Zevran both stared at Arais; it seemed as if they were sizing her up. "One question," Zevran said. "Is it someone we know? You can at least give us that much."

"Fine." She kicked off her heels and tucked her legs underneath her. "Yes, you know him."

He gave her a brief nod, then sat on the coffee table across from her; Isabela sat in the armchair. But, rather than look at Arais, they faced each other.

"Where do we start?" Isabela said, and leaned forward, her elbows resting on her knees.

Zevran mirrored her posture, a conspiratorial glint in his eyes. "Let's start with who she knows that we both know, too."

Eyebrows furrowed in thought, Isabela pursed her lips. "Well, we're both in _Much Ado_, so we know the entire cast. She said 'him', so it was a guy. That rules out more than half of them."

"It does," he began, and smirked. "It's definitely not Varric. He's still hopelessly smitten with that girl from his high school."

"And it couldn't have been . . . You-Know-Who." She turned to Arais, one brow raised in question. "It wasn't, was it?"

Arais made a rude noise in the back of her throat. "You can say his name; it won't kill me." She returned her gaze to her book and flipped the page. "No, it wasn't _Alistair_. I'm not desperate."

"Then it isn't someone from the cast," Zevran said, disappointment clear in his voice. "The rest of the men are either gay or in a relationship, or both."

"You would know," Isabela teased. "What about that guy she introduced us to a couple years back? The one she dated in high school?"

Arais stole a glance at them from beneath her lashes, and suppressed an amused smirk. "Anders?" Zevran offered, and Isabela nodded. "I doubt it. He's a TA at NYU. They were still in the middle of midterms as of yesterday, according to Facebook. Plus I'm pretty sure that ship has sailed; he's been spending a lot of time with Seona."

"Can you blame him? She's a babe."

"Hey!" Arais glared at Isabela. "That's my sister you're talking about."

Isabela's lips curved into a grin laced with faux-innocence.

"Don't worry, _carina_," Zevran purred, "you're still the fairest of them all."

"That isn't what I meant, and you know it."

They both laughed, and she suppressed the desire to stick her tongue out at them. Her feet asleep, she shifted her legs out from beneath her. Her feet caught the open messenger bag; it teetered on the edge of the couch and fell to the floor. The contents scattered across the carpet, and she cursed as she leaned over to pick it up.

Zevran bent to help her. He picked up some books which had slid from the bag, Wuthering Heights among them. Isabela caught a glimpse of it and cringed. "Oh, I hated that book," she said, and her voice dripped with disdain. "How it qualifies as classic literature I will never understand."

Zevran snorted. "You're just upset that Guerrin gave you a C- on the paper you had to write for it." Arais' kept her face impassive at the mention of Teagan, though her heart raced. "You complained about the hit you took to your grade in that class for two weeks."

"Whatever." Isabela leaned back in the armchair and crossed her arms over her chest. "It doesn't matter now. Besides, we can't all be as insightful as a certain Teaching Fell-"

Something like shock mingled with realization dawned over Isabela's face. Her wide-eyed gaze shifted from Zevran to Arais.

Zevran looked between the two women. When he caught on, the smile that spread across his lips was playfully sinister. Arais didn't like it one bit.

Panic bubbled in her chest, and it took considerable effort not to show it. Isabela muttered a low, "No . . . No, you wouldn't."

In an attempt to play dumb, Arais asked, "Wouldn't what?" But her voice had raised an octave, and it didn't go unnoticed by either of her friends.

"Holy shit," Zevran said with a laugh. "You did!"

Her cheeks burned hot, and she shook her head. "I don't know what-"

"Oh, don't play coy." He shifted on the coffee table so his whole body faced her. "You fucked Professor Guerrin."

"Zevran!" she cried, and buried her face in her hands. "Oh, don't say it like that!"

"God damn it," Isabela muttered. There was more than a little annoyance mixed with her amusement.

Zevran's whole body shook with laughter. "I can't believe it. I can believe you actually did it."

"Neither can I," Isabela said. "I didn't think you had it in you, sweet thing." Arais peeked between her fingers. Isabela pulled something from her bra and handed it to Zevran. "Congratulations. Asshole."

"My dear Isabela," he said, and he sounded positively tickled. "You should know better than anyone not to bet against an Italian. Especially when it comes to this sort of thing."

"Yeah, yeah." She swung her legs over the arm of the chair. "Shut up."

Arais lowered her hands to her lap and stared at them. "What are you two talking about?"

"Oh," Isabela said, her head angled so she stared up at the ceiling, unconcerned. "Just a bet we made around when we found out you'd made it into the teaching program."

"Mm." Zevran sat beside Arais on the couch; he leaned back and propped his feet up on the coffee table. "On whether you would sleep with Guerrin before the program ended, to be specific."

"You-" Arais looked between them, amazed at their audacity. "You bet on my _sex life_?"

He rolled his head to look at her, and his lips turned up in an impish grin. "It was too good an opportunity to pass up."

"And what inspired this, precisely?" she said, more annoyed with them than ever.

"Well . . ."

Isabela perked up, and shifted to sit up slightly. "Oh, can I tell her?" She stuck out her bottom lip in an exaggerated pout. "Please? It can be my consolation prize for losing the bet."

With a dramatic sigh, Zevran lifted his hands in surrender. "As you wish."

"Excellent!" She clapped excitedly, and swung around to kneel in the chair facing Arais. "You remember the night you and Alistair broke up? A couple weeks after you found out the professor you would be working with?" Arais nodded, and narrowed her eyes. "And you remember how Zev and I were trying to cheer you up?"

"I remember it involved a lot of alcohol, but not much else."

"You did get pretty wasted, but that's kind of the point." Isabela rested her forearms on the arm of her chair and leaned toward Arais. "We talked about the whole Teaching Fellow thing. When you were pretty well into your drinks, you started talking about Professor Guerrin. You rambled on about how intelligent he was and how excited you were to be working with him." She glanced at Zevran and gave him a sly smirk. "So, being us, we egged you on. We tried to get you to admit you thought he was hot. At one point you said, and I'll never forget this, 'I would climb him like a tree if I had the chance.'"

Zevran barked out a laugh, and again, Arais buried her face in her hands. "I did _not_ say that."

"Yes, you did," he said. His arm wrapped around her shoulders and pulled her against him.

"And it makes sense, considering the height difference." Isabela said through a fit of giggles. She coughed, and tried to steady her voice. "We made the bet when you passed out a little while later. And, if I'm being honest? It was the best fifty bucks I ever lost just for what you looked like afterward." There was a long pause before Isabela asked, "So . . . how did it happen?"

Arais folded her knees up to her chest. "You know how Alistair keeps blowing me off when I try to make plans to rehearse with him?" Isabela nodded. "Well, I've pretty much given up on getting him to work with me, but I need someone to run lines with. I don't know why, but Teagan was my first choice."

"We know why," Zevran teased.

Isabela waved a hand at him. "Shut up, you."

He chuckled, but allowed Arais to continue. She explained how she almost left, how he stopped her and offered to run lines with her. When she got to the part when he kissed her, a chill ran up her spine, and she shivered.

"That good?" Zevran asked.

"Maybe," she said, and she blushed. "Anyway, after that, things kind of just . . . happened."

The smile on Isabela's face turned wicked. "How was it?"

Arais' cheeks flushed. "That's none of your business!"

"Not fair!" Isabela cried, disappointed. "I always tell you!"

"Yeah, but I don't ask you; you offer the information."

She saw Zevran nod out of the corner of her eye. "She's right, you know."

"Oh, screw you both," Isabela said. Her eyes went wide, like a puppy's. "If you tell us, I promise I won't bring it up again." Again, she stuck out her bottom lip. "Ple-e-ease?"

"Why do you want to know so badly?"

"Because I haven't gotten any in months"-Zevran snorted-"okay, weeks. I want to live vicariously through my friend." Arais gave her an exasperated look, and she shrugged. "What, did you really expect innocent curiosity? From me?"

"I guess not." With a heavy sigh, she gave up. "It was amazing, okay?"

"Amazing?" Isabela sat back, arms crossed. She looked cheated. "That's it?"

"What do you want from me?" Arais demanded, eyes narrowed.

"Something more than amazing, for starters."

"Fine," she bit out, more than a little annoyed. "It was . . . perfect. Incredible. Wonderful, unbelievable, marvelous, the best sex I've ever had. So good we did it three times before I left; twice on his desk and once against the wall. So good I'm lucky it's Thursday; I could hardly walk straight for four blocks. And so good, he and I have a date this Saturday at his place, and it will probably happen again." Her gaze was hard as she stared at Isabela. "Satisfied?"

There was a long silence during which Isabela simply stared at her, mouth opened slightly. The silence was broken only when Zevran let out a low whistle. It seemed to be a sentiment with which Isabela could agree, as she nodded in response. Arais felt her cheeks darken, and she looked down at her hands. Her fingers fidgeted with her cuticles.

She heard Isabela shift in her seat before she breathed, "You lucky bitch."

"Agreed," Zevran said. Arais moved to lean back against the arm of the couch and stared at him, stunned. "What? It's true."

"I half expected you to leave after one time and never speak of it again." Isabela radiated envy. "But no. You go full-nympho, and now you have a _date_ with him."

"I did not go 'full-nympho'," she protested. "I just . . . enjoyed myself. A lot."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." Zevran smirked when she smacked him on the arm. "Come on, Arais. You know we're just teasing."

"I do." She crossed her arms over her chest and huffed. "That doesn't mean I have to like it, though."

Isabela plopped onto Zevran's lap, and wrapped an arm around his neck. "Well, I don't know about Zev, here, but I'm curious: Does this date mean what I think it means? This isn't going to be a one time thing?"

"I wouldn't mind knowing that, myself," he said. His eyes lost their jovial glint; he now looked very concerned, indeed. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"No-I mean, yes-I . . ." She paused, and clenched her fists, frustrated. "Oh, I don't know. Probably not? But I don't think a one night stand should feel the way this did." Her chest rose and fell as she took a deep breath, and she felt calmer. She thought of the conversation she and Teagan had. "We talked about it. He made it obvious he cares about me, and I . . . I care about him, too. The program ends in two months. After that, we won't be working together. We'll be free to do whatever we want."

"He's willing to risk his job for this? For you?" Isabela asked, and Arais nodded. "That's . . . really romantic, actually." Her lips fell into a petulant frown. "I fucking hate you."

"I love you, too, Isabela." Arais giggled when Isabela stuck her tongue out at her. "Anyway, that's really it. We keep it professional at school, and see each other once or twice a week otherwise." She looked down at her lap, and her cheeks darkened. "Though I may be spending more than just Saturday night with him."

When Zevran's eyes met hers, they held no small amount of suspicion. "And what do you mean by that?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Isabela flicked him on the back of the head. "Next week is Spring Break. If it were me, and the sex was _that_ good, I'd spend the whole week in bed."

"Well," Arais started, her cheeks hot. "Not the _whole_ week. I promised my parents I would visit for a couple days. Besides, he agreed he would continue to rehearse with me."

"I'm sure he did. Nympho." Arais pulled the pillow from behind her back and threw it at Isabela. The other woman caught it and held it to her chest, laughing. Something shifted in her eyes, and she sobered almost immediately. "You're really going through with this, aren't you?"

Arais nodded. "I am."

"If that's the case, I only have one thing to say," Zevran said. He took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "If he does anything to hurt you-anything at all-I _will _hurt him."

"And I'll help."

"I'll be sure to tell him." Arais smiled. "Thank you. For being so supportive. I don't expect this to be easy, and I'm glad I can trust you guys with it."

"Of course you can," Isabela said. "Have we ever given you reason to believe otherwise?" She held up her hand. "On second thought, don't answer that."

Arais laughed around a yawn, now quite aware of how tired she was. "I should go to bed; it's late, and I'm exhausted."

Zevran smirked. "I'm sure you are."

She pulled her hand from his and smacked his arm. When she stood, she arched her back, and the hem of her shirt rode up and tickled her stomach. "Good night, you two," she said when her body relaxed.

"Good night," Zevran said.

Isabela's lips curved into a devilish grin. "I'd say sweet dreams, but I'll bet those are coming whether I wish it or not."

"You're never going to let me live this down, are you?" Arais asked as she lifted her bag and slid the strap over her shoulder.

Zevran laughed, as if she had said something rather ridiculous. "Not a chance."

Isabela shook her head. "You'll get used to it."

With a dirty look cast at both of them, Arais walked to the hallway that led to her bedroom. Before she opened her door, she heard Zevran say, "Has it really been weeks for you?"

"No. I hooked up with the girl downstairs last night."

"I heard that," Arais called down the hallway.

"Oops," Isabela said, and Zevran was cackling; Arais heard a soft slap. "Quiet, you."

"Now was that necessary, _bella mia_?"

"Yes."

Laughing, Arais walked into her room and closed the door. She fell into her usual nightly routine. The only hitch occurred when she went to charge her cell phone. Notifications for both a missed call and a voicemail flashed on the screen. Surprised, she unlocked her phone to see who had called.

Her stomach tightened when Teagan's name came up on the screen. She immediately called to access her voicemail, and Teagan's voice said, "Arais. I suppose you've already gone to sleep, but . . ." She held her breath when he went silent, waiting. "I just wanted to say sleep well, and I . . . well, Saturday cannot come soon enough." He paused, and she half-expected the message to end there. When his voice came back through the speaker, she jumped. "If by any chance you're hearing this and you haven't gone to bed, call me. You won't disturb me; you couldn't if you tried."

The automated voice returned. Before it could ask her to either save or delete the message, she had hung up. She dialed Teagan without hesitation, and it rang once, twice. On the third ring, she heard his, "Hello," and her heartbeat quickened.

"Teagan," she said, and sat hard on the bed, all the strength she had left sapped from her body.

"You heard my message."

"I did." She felt a pang of anxiety in the pit of her stomach; she knew she had to tell him about Zevran and Isabela. She took a slow breath, but it didn't ease the tension pervading her chest. "My roommates know; I didn't tell them, I swear, they just . . . figured it out. I'm so sorry, I should have done a better job of hiding it."

"Arais, it's okay. I promise you, I'm not upset," he soothed. Just the sound of his voice, even and calm, helped her to relax. "The only thing that's important right now is whether you trust them."

"Of course I do," she said, without hesitation. "I've known them since freshman year, and they've never given me reason not to."

"Then we have nothing to worry about." She could feel the confidence in his voice seep into her to strengthen her resolve. "How did they react?"

"They were . . . enthusiastic," she said. She was grateful he couldn't see the blush that crept into her cheeks. "We had a conversation like the one you and I had. They're just as worried about the consequences of us getting caught as we are." She paused. "It feels nice, though. I feel a lot better going into this knowing I have people who support our choice."

"Tell him what will happen if you get hurt!" Isabela yelled from the room next door. It seemed she, at least, had retired for the evening.

"Hold on a second," Arais said, and pressed her phone's mouthpiece against her shoulder. To Isabela, she called, "Would you stop listening in on my conversation?"

"Oh, you're no fun."

"Bela . . ."

"Oh, all right," she conceded.

Arais shook her head and lifted the phone back to her ear. "I'm sorry; Isabela is too nosy for her own good."

"Hey!"

"Isabela!"

There was a long silence. Arais heard footsteps move away from the wall which separated their rooms. "I think she's really gone this time." She yawned into the back of her hand. "I should go; I'm worn out."

"As am I," he said, his voice husky, and warmth spread over and through every inch of her. "Sleep well."

"Teagan, wait," she said quickly. "About Saturday."

"Yes?" he said with a note of apprehension.

"You were right." She played with the fraying hem of her shorts. "It can't come soon enough."

"No, it can't." He paused, and her heart fluttered in her chest. "Sweet dreams, Arais."

"Good night," she breathed, and disconnected the call.

She reached over to put the phone on the charger and slipped under the sheets. She stared up at the ceiling, her thoughts running a tight race with the beating of her heart. Nothing but the pure exhaustion she felt could have overpowered it. Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier. When they fluttered shut, she turned onto her side. She relaxed beneath the blankets and began to drift out of consciousness. She swore she could feel Teagan's hands brush along her sides and over her stomach. She clutched at the mattress and moaned into her pillow.

"I told you so!" Isabela said through the wall, and Arais sat bolt upright.

Cheeks aflame, she grabbed a box of tissues from her nightstand and threw it at the wall. "I swear to God, Isabela, I will kick you out if you don't knock it off."

"You would never; you love me too much."

Arais muttered a string of curses under her breath. "Just go to bed."

"Fine, fine." Isabela's voice was light and playful. "_Sweet dreams_."


End file.
